


Unthought of, Unlooked for

by RosiePaw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosiePaw/pseuds/RosiePaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the <i>Daedalus</i> brings new personnel, John tries to do the right thing and all ends well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unthought of, Unlooked for

Grey… Blue… No, grey. Maybe.

Damn, choosing which shirt to wear shouldn’t be this hard. Even if this was his first date since Jennifer. Not to mention his first date with another guy since, well, since ever, really. Back when he’d been in grad school, things had been more casual. There hadn’t been any dates _per se_, just time spent hanging out together in ways that sometimes included sex.

But this evening? Was definitely a date. How had this happened? No equations could have predicted the sequence of events that led to this outcome. He certainly hadn’t seen it coming.

Rodney grinned, knowing where he’d picked up_ that_ phrase. Hell, maybe he should flip a coin to decide which shirt to wear. Flipping coins worked for some people, and if Rodney himself had never made a decision that way before, well, this was the Pegasus galaxy. Things previously unthought of were possible here. Consider this evening’s date.

Shirts. The grey one… Ohmigod, look at the time. Blue! Blue shirt! He finished dressing, ran a comb through his hair one last time, trying and failing to see himself in the mirror as other eyes might see him.

The door chimed. Rodney took a deep breath, opened the door and smiled, meeting the other man’s warm gaze.

"Uh, hello. Hi. Théo."

***

It was worse than Katie, worse than Jennifer. John had known that Rodney had been with other guys when he was younger. John had envied the casualness with which the other man could mention that fact, the evening they’d been trying to explain Earth’s sexual customs to Teyla and Ronon. But the way Rodney had talked about it had given John the impression that as far as Rodney was concerned, it had been just a phase. Something he’d tried in his younger and crazier days, something he wouldn’t be interested in now.

And that made it easier – okay, not easier, but less painful – to stand back and watch Rodney pursue relationships with women. π is irrational and Rodney McKay is not interested in guys. Deal with it, Sheppard. Your crush, your problem.

Then the Daedalus arrived on its most recent run, bringing new supplies, new Marines and new scientists. Including one Dr. Théo Bourgain, physicist. About John’s and Rodney’s age or maybe a little younger. About John’s height. Skinny, sort of awkward. Floppy chestnut hair, brown eyes.

In the normal course of events, John would have met him at the general introduction held for the new scientists, after which Dr. Bourgain would have vanished into the labs and off John’s radar. Except that shortly after Bourgain’s arrival, strange things started happening. For one thing, when John dropped by Rodney’s lab, he never found him alone anymore. If Rodney wasn’t arguing with Zelenka or berating minions, he was… discussing things with Bourgain. Discussing with great energy and vehemence, but not arguing. The rhythm was different.

Then there was the evening that John stopped by Rodney’s lab on his way to dinner in case Rodney had lost track of time (as usual) and needed a reminder. Except that when John got to the lab – no Rodney. Just Zelenka, finishing up a simulation, who volunteered the information that Rodney and "Théo" had last been seen heading out for the South Pier.

"What’s happening on the South Pier?" asked John. Obviously not an emergency or Rodney would have radioed him, but still, it might be something that could _become_ an emergency, especially with two curious physicists poking into it. It wouldn’t hurt for him to drop by, see what was up.

"Nothing of which I am aware, Colonel. I believe that Rodney and Théo intended only to go for a stroll."

Rodney. Leaving his lab at a reasonable hour. To go for a "stroll." With Bourgain.

John didn’t feel hungry anymore, so instead he went for a run. Not on the South Pier.

***

The next evening, John was sitting with Teyla and Ronon in the mess when he spotted Rodney coming off the line. John waved, only to realize too late that Bourgain had been going through the food line with Rodney and was now following him to the team’s table. Which, yes, did have an extra chair free.

"Théo, I think you’ve met Lt. Colonel Sheppard? And these are my team-mates, Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex." Why was Rodney being almost painfully formal? He sounded like a teenager bringing a boyfriend home to meet his family for the first time.

And why did Bourgain look so – wary, perhaps? Friendly enough, trying to smile, but it was a tense sort of smile. Maybe he was just nervous about meeting new people, John thought.

"Teyla, Ronon, this is Théo. Dr. Bourgain. From Brussels. Hybrid atoms and collisions using slow antiprotons."

Teyla and Ronon looked at John as if they expected him to translate. Rodney seemed to sense that more information was necessary, but not what _kind_ of information. Instead, he launched into an explanation of how Bourgain’s work tied into some of his own projects. Then Bourgain started interrupting Rodney’s monologue to emphasize the points which demonstrated how working together with Rodney allowed him to expand his own research in ways which otherwise would not have been possible, really, it was a marvelous opportunity. And he already had ideas for further collaboration. Which, of course, he proceeded to elaborate.

Rodney elaborated the elaborations.

No one else could get a word in edgewise. Teyla ate with a pleasant expression on her face which John remembered seeing offworld when tedious official speeches ran on too long. Ronon simply ate. John poked his food around his plate and wondered why watching Bourgain talk with his hands was so annoying, while watching Rodney do the same was somehow fascinating. Bourgain waved his hands around just as energetically as Rodney did, but… differently. With a different accent of motion, much like the way in which his French-accented English sounded different from Rodney’s Canadian English.

John found himself wanting to smack Bourgain’s hands out of the air. Trying to distract himself from the man’s hands, John watched his face instead. Which was why he noticed how often Bourgain looked at Rodney, how he seemed to be looking for something in or _from_ Rodney. And every time Rodney looked at Bourgain to find Bourgain looking at him, he sat up a little straighter. He almost… preened.

Shit, thought John.

A week later, the news hit the Atlantis gossip network that Rodney and Théo Bourgain had been out the evening before on a date, yes, an actual date, with wine and food and music. No flowers due to Rodney’s allergies, but still, definitely a date.

For once in his life, John had managed to see it coming. Somehow, this didn’t make him feel about any better.

***

After the exploratory mission to PX3-142 went down the tubes, the team returned to Atlantis bruised, scraped, gashed and generally worse for wear. Ronon had an impressive set of clawmarks on his left bicep, and Rodney had twisted an ankle while they were running for the gate.

They all headed to the infirmary for post-mission check-ups. Everyone needed at least a few stitches. Ronon needed _lots_ of stitches. Rodney provided entertainment by snarking about how he was going to be permanently crippled because _someone_ with more hair than brains had insisted on walking through the gate instead of bringing a jumper.

The stitchery and bandaging were just being completed when Théo Bourgain arrived. "Rodney, I just learned that you are returned… Oh! What has happened?" He was staring with a sort of horror at Rodney’s personal bandage collection.

"Oh, uh, we had some trouble, uh, it’s nothing, uh… You should see Ronon’s arm!"

John almost fell off the infirmary table. _Rodney_ was downplaying his injuries? Even Teyla betrayed some surprise. Ronon looked puzzled but amenable to Rodney’s suggestion. He seemed to be on the verge of stepping forward to provide Bourgain with an up-close display when Keller appeared with a pair of crutches.

"Here you go, Rodney. You need to give that ankle a rest. The crutches will help _if_ you remember to use them. Get someone else to carry things for you."

For some reason, she seemed to be addressing that last sentence to John. But it was Bourgain who announced firmly, "I will assist Rodney while his ankle heals. Rodney, you are going to your quarters to rest now, yes?"

Exit Rodney and Bourgain, Rodney on crutches, Bourgain close behind, hands reaching preemptively to steady or catch. Keller looked at John, John shrugged. He had his own quarters to go to, he didn’t need to be thinking about what – if anything – might be happening in Rodney’s.

No, he really didn’t need to think about that at all.

***

Rodney tried bringing Bourgain to sit with the rest of the team in the mess a couple more times, but Bourgain seemed uncomfortable and hardly spoke to anyone except Rodney. Rodney, being Rodney, didn`t have the social skills that might have allowed him to bridge the conversational gap. Instead either he and Bourgain got into discussions that no one else could understand, or else Bourgain ate silently as the team bickered and joked.

After a while, Rodney stopped bringing Bourgain over and sat with him alone instead.

Sometimes John arrived in the mess to find that Rodney and Bourgain were already there. He tried sitting with them a couple of times. He was Rodney’s team leader and his friend, even if he and Rodney never seemed to have time to hang out together anymore. Somehow it just felt right to John that if Bourgain was going to date Rodney, John should get to know him and vice versa.

That was the theory, anyway. In practice, there were apparently no topics of conversation that worked for all three of them. Rodney ended up having to choose between talking with Bourgain and talking with John. And sometimes it didn’t even get as far as Rodney having to choose.

One time John had just come up behind the pair when he realized they were speaking French – Bourgain’s native language, Rodney’s second. John had taken French in high school for one semester before he persuaded his guidance counsellor to let him drop it in favour of extra math. He found somewhere else to sit.

Another time they were swapping an iPod back and forth, _discussing_ (not arguing over) whether or not someone’s recording of the nth symphony was superior to someone else’s. It was pretty clear that whatever kind of music they were talking about, it wasn’t Johnny Cash.

After a while, John stopped trying to sit with them.

***

It was almost a month before Keller cleared Rodney for any kind of exercise that might involve twisting or pivoting on his ankle. John greeted this news by announcing team sparring practice.

From past experience, John had learned that the best way to ensure that Rodney actually showed up was to stop by his lab on the way to the gym and drag him there. This time, however, Zelenka informed John – with a sort of cautious courtesy – that Rodney had left for the gym some time earlier. With "Théo."

John reached the gym to find Teyla and Ronon watching as Rodney tried to lead Bourgain through some basic exercises with the bantos. The other physicist was not having an easy time of it. He moved like a teenager who’d shot up recently, as if all his limbs were longer than he expected them to be. "Coltish" was the word that came to mind, except that John had always kind of enjoyed watching colts run and play.

When a bungled move dropped Bourgain on his ass – mostly because he’d tripped over his own feet – Teyla stepped forward and caught Rodney’s eye.

"Rodney, you have certainly improved since you started learning the bantos. But perhaps it is one thing to learn, another to teach?"

"Teyla’s right, Théo, I’m not the best person to teach you this. Here, try it with her." Rodney seemed eager to hand his sticks over to Teyla and step aside.

To John’s eye, Teyla was going unusually easy on Bourgain. And yeah, everyone had to start somewhere. But he didn’t remember _ever_ being as clumsy as Bourgain. Hell, he wasn’t sure he remembered _Rodney_ ever being as clumsy as Bourgain. Somehow Rodney had improved so gradually that it was hard now for John to look back and try to measure how much Rodney had changed.

Whump! There went Bourgain, on his ass again. Not a happy camper. Red-faced and sweating, he got to his feet, started to leave the mats, looked puzzled when Teyla came over and insisted on touching foreheads with him. He exchanged a few quiet words with Rodney and left.

"Won’t be back," commented Ronon.

Rodney’s shoulders went back, his chin came up so fast that John blinked. "You don’t know anything about him," he snapped. "Théo came here expecting to work in a lab with other scientists."

"In an Ancient city in another galaxy," John pointed out.

"He knew that! He knew that a lot of things would be different! But he thought that the differences would be… outside. Away from him. With a buffer zone between him and them."

"He did not think that he would be asked to sit down and share meals with what is ‘different.’" Teyla’s comment sounded a bit wry.

"He’s scared," added Ronon.

"Yeah, he’s scared. He didn’t come to Atlantis because he thought it would be exciting or dangerous or exotic. He came because he can do work here that he can’t do anywhere else, make discoveries that no one on Earth will ever have a chance at. He came because that’s important to him, important enough that he came _in spite of_ the fact that he’s scared. To my mind, that makes him one hell of a brave man. Being brave is easy if you’re not scared in the first place. Being brave when you’re scared, _that_ takes guts."

Rodney should know, thought John. Rodney was that kind of brave. Rodney was – maybe not so scared as he had been, but still more so than John, let alone Teyla or Ronon. Maybe he always would be. But it didn’t matter, because Rodney went ahead and did what was important _anyway_. And if Rodney saw Bourgain as doing the same thing, well, maybe Rodney was right.

"It shook him up to see someone he knew from the labs go offworld and come back injured."

John wondered if Rodney honestly thought Bourgain would have reacted quite the same way if any scientist _other_ than Rodney had been involved.

"I thought maybe learning the bantos would help him make a connection between being someone who works in a lab and someone who can, not take care of himself exactly, but, but at least not be completely incompetent in the field."

"If Théo would like to continue learning, Rodney, then I will certainly be happy to teach him." Now Teyla’s voice was gentle – and noncommittal. If, then. If not, then not.

"Sheppard, maybe you could teach him to shoot!"

On the other hand, Rodney wasn’t always right about everything. "Let’s see how he does on the bantos first, okay buddy?"

***

The people on M2Z-718 required a ritual. Once John managed to shut Rodney up and give Teyla a chance to explain the details, the requirement turned out to be rather mild: each member of the team would have to tell a story.

At this point Rodney switched over from complaints regarding Pegasus galaxy rituals in general to complaints focused on this particular ritual. He claimed – loudly and at length – not to have any stories to tell.

Ronon was quick to refute this. "The Marines told me you told them one about this time in Siberia when…"

"Share a story that you were told as a child, Rodney," suggested Teyla while _not_ stepping on Ronon’s foot.

"No one told me stories when I was a child." From the hints John had picked up concerning Rodney’s childhood, that seemed entirely possible. But it also gave him an idea.

"_Green Eggs and Ham_!"

"Yeah, that was good."

Rodney stared at Ronon. "You’ve read _Green Eggs and Ham_? What, the Marines lent you a copy? I suppose that _is_ about their average literacy level, but I would have thought their tastes ran more towards…"

"Huh? I was talking about breakfast this morning. It was good."

Actually, living in the Pegasus galaxy did shed a whole new light on Dr. Seuss, thought John. "It’s also the title of a book, Ronon, one of Rodney’s niece’s favourites."

"Fine, and if Madison were here _she_ could tell it. Unfortunately, she’s on Earth,_ I’m_ here, and…"

"And you bitched _repeatedly_ about how the last time you were at Jeannie’s, you had to read it to Madison so many times that you’ve got it memorized. Plus, the rhyme scheme’s kind of catchy – the crowd will like it. And it’s got a character named Sam."

"This tale sounds interesting, Rodney. I would like to hear it."

"A story about food, McKay – can’t be too bad."

"I hate you all."

***

Teyla told a story her mother had told her as a child. Ronon told a story one of his older sisters had tried to scare him with. Continuing that theme, John told a ghost story he’d heard from another kid at a campfire. Which left Rodney. Who, to John’s surprise, took a breath and began, "Once upon a time…"

"Once upon a time, there was a man whose entire life was dedicated to the creation of music, music for people who sang with their own voices but even more so people who sang through the voices of various instruments. This man himself played an instrument called the piano, which is… I can draw you a diagram if you want. It has many keys that connect to hammers which strike strings to produce tones. The player can play many tones at once, they can play them loudly or softly and they can control how quickly the vibrations of the strings damp out."

"Anyway, this man created music – we say he _wrote_ music, my people have a kind of code for writing music down in order to share it with others and to preserve it over time – he _wrote_ music for the piano but also for other instruments, and for groups of instruments both large and small. His music sang not only to the ear and the mind but also to the heart, and he became famous for it."

"But as the years went by, the music-writer – we say, _composer_ – began to lose his hearing. He wore out pianos because he kept hitting the keys harder and harder, trying to hear the sound they made. Eventually, he became completely deaf. You might think this was the cruelest thing that could have happened to him, but it was not. He could still hear the music in his _mind_, and that was the important thing. As long as he could hear the music in his mind and write it down, it could be played so that others could hear it with their ears."

"One of the last pieces of music that the composer wrote was a _symphony_, that is, a long piece with three or four sections written for a large group of various instruments called an _orchestra_. The theme of the last section – the last _movement_ – was joy. To completely express this theme, the composer used not only the many voices of the orchestra but also human voices, a chorus and four solo singers. The music in his mind required them all."

"At the conclusion of the first performance of this symphony and of the final movement dedicated to joy, the audience burst into applause. However, the composer was standing facing the orchestra. He was not looking at the audience and could not hear the applause. Not until one of the singers came forward and turned him gently around could he see how the audience was honouring the music he had created in his mind."

Rodney’s audience did not applaud. They sat silently. John watched as Rodney’s shoulders slumped a bit, then drew up again as Rodney opened his mouth to say something caustic and dismissive. But he was forestalled when one of the elders stepped forward. "Dr. McKay, this is a powerful story. We are grateful to you for sharing it with us. Would you grant permission for us to share it with others?"

Caught off-stride, Rodney turned red. "It’s not my story," he blurted out, "I read it in a book when I was a kid. No one owns it. So, uh, yeah, you can share it."

***

Once the ritual had been satisfied, the trade negotiations went smoothly. They were followed by a post-negotiation feast, which was in turn followed by drinking and dancing. John found himself a comfortable spot, on the outskirts of the torchlight and back a bit from the rest of the crowd, where he nursed his mug of – not wine, really, more like fermented cider except made from something that wasn’t apples. The torches reminded him of campfires again. He wondered what it would be like to be a child who’d learned all the stories he knew from books.

John jumped a little guiltily when Rodney sat down next to him, his own mug in hand.

"It’s almost weird when everything works out."

"Yeah, they liked your story."

"Not that, you moron. I mean the whole…" Rodney’s wave encompassed the torchlit circle, the dancers, a group of children playing tag, adults chatting and laughing. "It was a good day. This is a good evening. Tomorrow the Wraith will probably show up, or we’ll get back to Atlantis and some idiot will have blown something up or triggered a quarantine. But right now there’s all _this_." Another wave.

"How much cider have you had, McKay? I keep waiting for you to start complaining about night-crawling wildlife. Or carcinogens in the smoke."

"No more cider than you, Colonel. Huh, a few years ago I _would_ have been complaining. Hell, I would have been terrified that any minute there’d be something to complain _about_. I would have been complaining just to… ward it off."

"Right, that’s logical and scientific."

"Oh, shut up. I’m trying to say that I’ve learned some things. Speaking of which, where the _hell_ did Ronon learn that dance move?"

"His partner doesn’t seem to be objecting."

"His partner is the chief elder’s eldest granddaughter, he’d better not break her. Hey, how come she’s not dancing with _you_?"

"McKay, seeing ‘s how you’re feeling so mellow and all, let’s declare a moratorium on the name ‘Kirk’ for the evening, okay?"

"Okay. Just this once. Is there any more cider?"

"Is that a promise on the moratorium?"

"Yeah."

"In that case I just happen to have half a jug sitting right here. Hold your mug steady… There you go."

"It’s just I wouldn’t want to see Ronon get into trouble."

"Ronon?!"

"C’mon, isn’t he like, like a kind of younger brother?"

"Sometimes a very scary younger brother, but yeah, I know what you mean."

"You’re all like that."

"Sometimes very scary?"

"Ha, ha, ha. I mean like family. The team is like family. When I was a kid, I didn’t. Well."

"No one told you stories. Got that."

By the time they’d finished the jug, Rodney was beginning to – tilt. Towards John. And to sort of slump _onto_ John as well. Which should have been annoying, not cute. Stupid crush.

John had himself had too much cider to deal well with a tilting, slumping, kinda cute Rodney, so he enlisted Ronon and Teyla’s help to get him back to their sleeping quarters. They didn’t even have to tell Rodney a bedtime story before he was snoring.

***

The next time John saw Rodney and Bourgain doing the iPod-swapping thing, he thought, well, Rodney deserved someone he could share music with. Someone who could appreciate the intricacies of his work on a detailed level instead of just being generally grateful that Rodney had saved everyone’s lives _again_. Someone who could…

It wasn’t like the two of them were making out in public. But they stood just a bit inside each other’s spaces. They touched, casual touches on the arm or shoulder, just a bit more often than friends would. Rodney deserved someone who could do that without anyone having to worry about their own or anyone else’s career. Rodney deserved someone who could be openly proud to have a boyfriend who was a genius _and_ brave _and_ (kind of) cute. And who had fascinating hands. And a really nice ass.

Not that John spent a _lot_ of time thinking about this. He had meetings to attend, paperwork to catch up with, Marines to ride herd on, rumours to look into – or not. They’d brought back some cider from M2Z-718, and one of the chemists was said to be trying to distill it into not-applejack. John decided to leave this project alone on the grounds that the chemist’s supply of raw materials was going to be too limited for large scale production. He’d have too much competition from people who wanted to drink the cider as-is.

John went running with Ronon and sparred with Teyla. It was Teyla who asked, apparently out of the blue, "John, Dr. Bourgain is from a different country than either you or Rodney, is he not?"

"Yeah, Belgium. It’s in Europe, uh, the same continent as the country where Zelenka is from."

"Rodney has said that his country recognizes marriages between people of the same sex."

"Uh, yeah?"

"I was wondering about Dr. Bourgain’s country."

John didn’t know and said so, but when he got back to his quarters, he checked Google.atl. Huh, second country on Earth to recognize same-sex marriage. Belgium. Who knew?

John tried not to wonder why Teyla had asked this particular question. He also tried not to be grateful that she hadn’t started referring to Rodney’s boyfriend as "Théo."

***

Complications with the mission on P4S-159 led to a jailbreak which, like the mission itself, became messier than intended. Punches were thrown. Shots were fired. In particular, one of the locals winged John, not severely but the guy was going for a second try when Rodney managed to shoot him instead.

Rodney seemed quieter than usual during the jumper ride home. John tried to cheer him up by complimenting his shooting, only to have Rodney reply, "I never shot anyone before I came to the Pegasus galaxy."

Ronon was matter-of-fact. "If you hadn’t shot that guy, he would have shot Sheppard."

But Rodney nodded and said, "That’s kind of what I mean." When he didn’t say anything else, John knew that something somewhere was really screwed up.

***

John didn’t seem to be needed for light-switch duty in the lab as often these days. Suddenly, most of the Ancient gadgets they found could be tested perfectly adequately by people with weaker ATA genes. However, there was always a small pile of help-us-John-Sheppard-you’re-our-only-hope items, and whenever "small" began to edge towards "medium," Rodney still asked John to stop by.

That’s what had brought John to Rodney’s lab this particular afternoon. They’d gotten a late start due to plumbing problems in the Marines’ quarters. Lorne had reported that he still didn’t know who had been trying to flush what and where they had gotten it in the first place, but he was working on it. Anyway, the result was that by the time John and Rodney had worked their way down to the bottom of the HUJSYOOH pile, they were the only ones left in the lab. Which John hadn’t even really noticed until Rodney glanced around, leaned forward and stammered, "Can, I, uh, askyousomethingpersonal?"

At this point John not only noticed, he started to panic.

"You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to!"

Yeah, _that_ was reassuring. "McKay, I can’t decide whether or not I want to answer until you ask."

"When you were, uh, married…"

Where were emergency radio calls when you really needed them?

"…did you sometimes have trouble talking about things with your, uh, wife? Not married things! Military things. Not classified military things, other military things?"

Okay, this wasn’t quite what John had been expecting. "McKay, according to my _ex_-wife, I never talked with her about anything, military or otherwise."

"Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked." Rodney, already turning away towards a monitor screen, actually looked hurt. It was hard not to respond to that.

"Hey, wait, I didn’t mean it like that. Look, this happens to a lot of guys. Being out in the field, especially in combat situations, it’s a, a different place. You form different kinds of bonds with your team, you can talk with them about, well, stuff that happens. But when you come home, you can’t talk with your family – your wife or husband or parents or whatever – about what happened out there in the same way as you can talk with your team. They don’t know what things to avoid talking about..."

"And maybe the things you _do_ want to talk about, they don’t want to hear?"

"That too. And even if they do want to hear it, it’s a lot of work to fill them in on all the background stuff before you can even get to what you really wanted to talk about. Yeah, it’s a pretty common problem. I’m not, well, I’m not the best person to give you advice on how to deal with it."

Rodney grinned. "Nooooooooooooo! I never would have guessed!" Then more seriously, "But you were the one I was comfortable asking, so I did. Sorry."

"Not a problem, McKay. Really, not a problem." Somewhat to John’s surprise, he realized he meant it. There were things that Rodney wasn’t comfortable asking anyone but him. They were still friends. Cool.

***

What wasn’t so cool, John decided later on, was that the conversation suggested that Rodney and Bourgain were having some kind of problem. Which wasn’t really anyone else’s business. John certainly didn’t want it to be _his_ business. But Rodney was team and team was like family and John was uncomfortably aware that as Rodney’s _de facto_ family, they – he – hadn’t tried all that hard to make Bourgain feel welcome.

With this in mind, he resolutely invited Rodney to bring Dr. Bourgain – he couldn’t quite bring himself to say "Théo" – to the next team movie night. Rodney stared for approximately 3.5 seconds, then nodded and replied, "Right, movie, that solves the conversation problem, good idea, we’ll be there."

Explaining to Teyla and Ronon why they were trying to make Bourgain feel welcome was another matter, especially given that John didn’t feel he should share the conversation he’d had with Rodney.

Teyla gave John a long, thoughtful look. "You are right, John. A bridge is best built from both sides." John decided to take that as agreement.

Ronon snorted. "Sheppard, you know how sometimes McKay says you have a brain after all? And then five minutes later he calls you a moron?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"He’s right."

John wasn’t sure how to take that at all.

***

Movie night was pretty much a flop. John had forgotten that it was Ronon’s turn to pick the movie. If he’d thought about it, he would have asked Ronon to trade with Teyla, who would have picked something less, well, action-oriented. Maybe with some character development and a more or less coherent plot. Bourgain didn’t actually _say_ anything about the movie, he was just – less than enthusiastic.

Then there was the seating. Bourgain ended up sitting with Rodney between him and everyone else. No surprises there. It would have been fine, except that John had somehow ended up in the last place he wanted to be, smushed in between Teyla and Rodney’s _other_ side. There was a particularly awkward moment when Rodney was holding the popcorn and John and Bourgain both reached for the bowl at the same time, ending up in a brief tug-of-war. It felt symbolic of something that John didn’t really want to think about.

He tried sliding off the couch onto the floor next to Ronon, but Ronon growled at him, so he had to move back up. Getting his place back required some squirming. When he tried to move so that most of the squirming took place between him and Teyla rather than him and Rodney, Teyla shoved him sideways _into_ Rodney, who squawked and glared at him. This in turn caused Bourgain to lean forward and look across Rodney to see what was going on.

"She shoved me!" John told the two of them.

"You were attempting to sit in my lap, John," retorted Teyla.

Ronon growled again, so everyone shut up.

Bourgain and Rodney left as soon as the credits started to roll. Teyla watched them go, then commented, "A bridge is best built from _both_ sides."

"I’m trying!"

"I did not say you were not, John."

***

John had never been a big fan of tuna casserole, and not-tuna casserole was even more forgettable. Eating mechanically as he reviewed the upcoming mission schedule, he was startled when Bourgain addressed him.

"Colonel Sheppard? Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Uh, no, not at all. Please." John watched as Bourgain seated himself, began to eat. What had brought this on? Unless… Was Rodney okay? "So, how are things going in the labs?"

"They are going well. It is a great opportunity to work here." Bourgain appeared to be studying the contents of his fork. John had to admit that the not-tuna _tasted_ a good deal like the real thing, and the texture wasn’t bad, but the blue-gray colour was a bit disturbing.

"I think we traded for it on MG1-738," he volunteered, "We can’t depend entirely on supplies from Earth."

"It must have been very difficult when you first came to Atlantis. That is, difficult for all of you who came at the beginning."

"I’d say challenging rather than difficult. We did what we needed to do."

"Yes. You needed to adapt, so, you adapted. I think that perhaps those who come now have a different sort of difficulty."

"We didn’t need to try and fit ourselves in with people who were already established here."

"That is true but not what I meant to say. You had an absolute need to adapt in order to survive. For us, the necessity is less absolute. We have the luxury of deciding, which carries the danger of being caught in our own indecision."

"I think you’re overthinking things, Doctor. Must be an occupational hazard for scientists. McKay does it all the time."

"Rodney is an exceptional person. He knows that is true, but I think that he does not realize in how many ways it is true."

John looked up to find Bourgain looking directly and steadily at him. "Yeah, I agree."

"I thought that you would."

They didn’t seem to have much to say to each other after that. John took a few more bites of not-tuna, then turned in his tray and left.

***

It was about a week later that John ran into Zelenka in the mess one evening, both of them grabbing a late supper.

"Colonel, Rodney was still in the lab when I left. He will probably lose track of time and forget to eat."

Zelenka’s tone suggested that he might be commenting on the weather – it will probably rain tomorrow, Rodney will probably forget to eat. John couldn’t figure out why Zelenka was bothering to tell him this. Not that it was completely unknown for him to bring sandwiches and a pudding cup or three by the lab when Rodney was working late, but he hadn’t done so _recently_. He hadn’t _had to_ do so recently.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as if John had a lot else to do. He picked out some of Rodney’s favourites. When he dropped by the lab with them later on, sure enough, there was Rodney. John got a fresh pot of coffee going, asked questions about the project Rodney was working on, made sure the food remained within grabbing distance so that it would get eaten and eventually persuaded Rodney to turn in for the night.

***

Rodney put in several more late nights at the lab after this, so John was pleased when he finally showed up in the mess one evening in time to eat dinner with the rest of the team. They bickered, they joked, it was all going very well when…

Son of a _bitch_! Bourgain was speaking with a blond guy whom John vaguely recognized as one of the scientists. Except not just speaking – sort of leaning in, their heads close together. As they left the food line, Bourgain put his hand on the small of the other guy’s back, guiding him towards an empty table.

"John?" That was Teyla who, like Rodney, had her back towards the food line. John hastily looked at her instead of Bourgain, but not quickly enough to prevent Rodney from swiveling around to see what had caught John’s attention.

When he turned back, he looked more puzzled than surprised or hurt. "Yeah, Théo and I decided to stop seeing each other. It wasn’t working out." He dug into the mashed not-potatoes that accompanied the some-kind-of-meatloaf.

"I am sorry to hear that, Rodney." Teyla, of course.

"Bourgain’s a fast worker," added Ronon, eying the couple.

"I think they bonded over Paul’s still. Théo’s family owns a cidery. Do you officially know about the still, Sheppard?"

"Depends," said John, "Have they solved their supply problem yet?"

***

When John’s door chimed later that evening, he wasn’t surprised to see Rodney.

"I, uh, just wanted you to know that the, uh, break-up? It’s friendly. Civilized. You don’t have to do your angry, protective thing."

"I wasn’t…"

"It looked like you were."

Well, okay, anger _was_ part of what John was feeling. And it was safer to talk about than some of the other parts. He really didn’t want to get into a conversation with Rodney about why Rodney’s break-up with Bourgain also made him feel _relieved_.

"Okay, I was. Some. I’ll try not to."

"Well, good. Because it’s your fault, anyway."

"WHAT?!"

"You chose me for your team, Sheppard! And insisted on me learning to shoot and hit people with sticks. And kept on doing stupid things that required me to _use_ what I’d learned in order to save your _life_. You’ve turned me into a guy who thinks that a good day is one in which no one gets seriously injured or almost killed or completely killed because _most_ days? That kind of shit is _normal_! Then I meet the kind of guy I would have been interested in five years ago and he’s very nice and completely unsuicidal and his hair’s too flat and…"

"McKay, _breathe_!"

"…and being with him is kind of _boring_ and most of the stuff I’ve got going on my life _scares_ him. Hell, it still scares _me_ but not as much, at least not all the time and anyway it’s my _life_ and the team is my _family_ and you are… you are… you…"

Shock was one tactic to use for shutting Rodney up, at least temporarily. So John raised an eyebrow and drawled, "McKay, are you saying that I’ve ruined you for any other man?"

Only to have Rodney beam at him and bounce on his toes and yell, "YES!"

Shit. In pursuing tactics, John had lost track of strategy. This wasn’t where he’d meant the conversation to go.

In the silence, Rodney deflated. "Oh. That was sarcasm." His voice was very small. "Oh, hell. I’m, uh, sorry, uh, good night?" And he made for the door.

John managed to get between Rodney and the door fast enough to block Rodney’s escape, but not fast enough for Rodney to stop in time to avoiding running into him. They both grabbed at each other and ended up with John against the door, his hands on Rodney’s biceps, Rodney hanging on to John’s shoulders. His face was flushed, and his eyes were wide and very blue.

Being brave when you’re scared, _that_ takes guts, thought John. So he leaned forward and kissed Rodney McKay, a firm press of lips with just a touch of tongue, trying to make his own intentions clear while also leaving Rodney room to back off if John was reading the situation wrong. But when Rodney pulled back slightly, it was only to murmur, "Not sarcasm?"

"No, Rodney."

Rodney’s answering kiss didn’t leave backing off as an option. Not at all. John found himself grinning against the other man’s mouth as he leaned back against the door for the pleasure of feeling Rodney lean forward against _him_. His hands travelled southward from Rodney’s biceps, along that strong, solid body to nestle around the curves of Rodney’s ass. John squeezed.

***

John’s hands squeezing his ass – John’s long, lean body pressed close and warm against his own – John’s sweet mouth, hot and wet – it was wonderful and dizzying and not enough. In the back of Rodney’s mind something clamoured _moremoremoremore_ while something else simply sighed _yesyesyes_.

And _damn_ John Sheppard! Rodney had been reasonably… pretty much… at least more than 50% sure that even if John said "no," he wouldn’t boot Rodney off the team. Or punch him out. But _damn_ John that not once in five years had he ever given Rodney any clue that "yes" was possible, that he’d waited – that he’d _still_ be waiting – until Rodney dared ask. Rodney nipped at John’s neck to communicate just how thoroughly pissed off he was about _that_.

Admittedly, Rodney’s phrasing hadn’t been exactly clear. He’d been distracted by John looking very… John-like. And by the non-zero probability of really screwing things up. Really, _only_ John, no one else, would have understood what Rodney was trying to say. On which thought he tried soothing the nips with his tongue to make amends, felt the hitch in John’s breathing against his own chest, wanted _more_, _yes, now_.

Hell, if they could figure all _this_ out then the petty annoyance of keeping John’s superiors in the dark ought to be a piece of cake. But even if that proved to be more complicated, they’d deal with it. It was more than worth it for the closeness and the heat, the taste and the scent of John, the way his hips fit against Rodney’s as they moved together.

This was the Pegasus galaxy, where you took the good days as you could get them and fought alongside those you loved to survive the not-so-good days. This was the Pegasus galaxy, where things previously unthought of were entirely possible.


End file.
